


she waits

by beccasaur



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccasaur/pseuds/beccasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under cover of night she comes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	she waits

**Author's Note:**

> Written a very long time ago over on LJ for the 'undercover' challenge.

Under cover of night she comes, her dress a beacon of red, drawing his attention to her. He can’t help but notice, can’t help but be afraid; she understands, because to him, red means danger. Red is blood, red is the devil, red is _no, no, no, I’m not listening, stop it, get out!_ It means that something is wrong, and there is nothing more wrong than his world and the people in it. They are so full of emotions – anger, sorrow, confusion, all just trying to make their way as a tiny fish in the huge sea – that they are failing to see what’s right in front of their noses; they do not spot the thing that is most out of place in this world of beer, brawls and Bowie. Sam, her Sam. Nothing fits as badly as he does. He’s the chess piece in the middle of a draughts board. She laughs; it’s a game, everything is just a game. _One, two, buckle my shoe. Three, four, knock at the door. Five, six, your mind plays tricks._  
  
Under cover of night she comes, her clown tucked under her arm, its painted face a garish smile. It’s not real; a shield worn to hide the emotions, the desire to run, the confusion. She can see the truth of it, but he is less sure – _real, unreal, real, unreal_. Is she a dream, a manifestation of his subconscious, or is she really there, lurking in the shadows, waiting? He wants to go home, waiting waiting waiting to get there, away from this nightmare, his face a painted smile until he can work out how. Tick-tock, tick-tock, time is running out, Sam. How long before the white room isn’t there anymore, replaced by a dark wooden box? How long before he doesn’t belong anywhere but here, with the methods he doesn’t understand and the people he wants to hate? ‘Til he’s left with her as his friend, his only friend?  
  
Under cover of night she comes, but come daybreak, she is back on her test card, watching, waiting for the night when she can come again.


End file.
